


sweet baby, our sex has meaning

by publunchesownmyass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/publunchesownmyass/pseuds/publunchesownmyass
Summary: “Want it with it on?” he asks him, checking, and Harry shivers slightly because it makes heat pool in his veins when he can hear Louis’ rough edged voice, feel him stroking the back of his thigh.“Yes,” he speaks the words against the corner of Louis’ pillow and they come out muffled so he nods his head too. “Wanna get fucked in my pretty dress, Lou.”or, Harry wears his lace dress and Louis is enamoured.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 35
Kudos: 193





	sweet baby, our sex has meaning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. 
> 
> guys this is yet another fic i keep meaning to edit god july me just kept churning these mfs out 

It’s just gone one o’clock in the morning and Harry Styles is drunk. And floating, he’s pretty sure. Well, his body feels like it’s floating but he knows his feet are firm on the ground below him. Is it possible to float with your feet on the ground, he wonders. He thinks it must be or what is he doing right now? 

“Mate, you’re on the sofa,” Mitch laughs from where he’s lounging next to him, a dark figure amongst all the loud people who are drinking and chatting, cheers and whoops mingling with the throbbing base of the music. He can feel one of his arms where it’s cast heavily over his chest like a dead weight.

Oh. Harry must’ve said that out loud. 

“Thanks, Mitch, ‘s always...you’re always here,” Harry smiles at him lazily, slurring his way through the sentence as he lifts one hand up to comb through Mitch’s hair. His hand feels too heavy for his wrist to balance and he ends up just flopping it onto Mitch’s forehead. “Oops, sorry, Mitch- Mitch, you okay, did I hurt you?” 

He laughs again, although Harry isn’t sure why, gently picking his hand off his face. “No, you’re good, man. Let’s find you Louis, shall we?” 

Louis. LouisLouisLouis. Harry smiles again, letting the word roll off his tongue happily. Such a lovely name. So nice-sounding. Good to shout out in bed, too. 

“Yes, Louis,” repeats Mitch, sounding amused as he sits up from the sofa and turns to face him, face blurring slightly in Harry’s vision. “Do you remember where he is, bub? He’ll be with his mates, won’t he?” 

Hmm. Probably. 

“Hmm. Probably,” says Harry, trying his best not to slur, beaming when Mitch rolls his eyes. Accepting his hand, he stands up, wobbling slightly on his feet. It feels like he hasn’t walked in years. 

“Where are we going?” He asks, unsure as Mitch leads him out the room carefully, one hand on his lower back, the warmth of it dissipating through the lace of his dress. There’s people  _ everywhere,  _ dancing, chatting, playing pool, drinking. Harry smiles at each one, blushing and giggling helplessly when they nod or smile in return, probably just humouring him. Oh, how he loves people. 

“Finding Louis for you, remember? He’ll be able to take care of you,” Mitch answers and Harry has to wrack his brains to remember what he asked him. He figures it out eventually, though, as he stumbles - Mitch catches him before he can crash into the drinks table - into the kitchen. 

“Yes, that’s right, Louis. My boyfriend,” he adds, giggling, “so he can  _ take care  _ of me.” He accompanies the last part of the sentence with a wiggle of his hips, smiling widely when Mitch groans, grabbing his arm to pull him out the way of a rowdy group of people. 

“Not like that, Harry, I meant so he can take you home.” 

Oh. Well, that sounds like a lot less fun. 

“Why will he take me home?” Harry pouts, letting himself be guided into another room, this time with a more relaxed atmosphere; groups of people sitting and laughing and drinking. “I like it here.” 

Mitch shrugs, “I don’t know then, mate, but I  _ do  _ know you’re about fifteen minutes away from being so drunk that you’ll start crying for Louis and I’m planning to get you to him before that happens.” 

Harry frowns, tripping over his own feet as he twists round to face Mitch. “I don’t think I cry for him. Maybe you’re thinking of someone else - maybe you mean you,” he tells him seriously, nodding his head. 

Mitch laughs, shaking his head a bit. “Sure, alright. Hey, look, there he is,” he raises his voice slightly, “Louis! Got your boy here, man, bit drunk, he is.” 

Harry allows himself exactly two seconds to feel offended at Mitch’s words before he smiles, wiggling out of his grip and running - he almost falls,  _ almost _ \- over to his boyfriend where he’s sitting on a sofa amongst a large group of people, smoke and laughter curling around them. 

“Hey, baby,” Louis’ smiling at him, patting the empty space next to him and Harry blushes, curling a strand of hair around his finger, feeling rather shy all of a sudden. He curls up next to him anyway, chest squeezing as Louis slips one arm around his shoulder, his other hand curling protectively around Harry’s bare ankle. His hand is warm and rough against his skin and it makes Harry shiver slightly, but in a good way. 

“Cheers, Mitch, have a nice night, yeah?” Louis calls out and Harry sighs, pleased, laying his head on Louis’ shoulder. 

The pleased feeling lasts all of two minutes. It’s just- Louis’ not paying him any attention and Harry frowns, pouting. Granted, his thumb is rubbing small comforting circles on the bone of his ankle and occasionally his hand will come up to card through Harry’s hair but his actual attention is obviously elsewhere. 

Which, like, okay, Harry’s aware he sounds like a brat but Louis just seems to bring it out in him, what can he do? In fact, Louis’ called him a brat many times - voice tinged with fondness and amusement and mainly referring to Harry when he’s drunk. 

He sighs, unhappily this time, turning his face inwards and breathing in the smell of Louis; a comforting blend of aftershave, cigarettes, Harry’s own vanilla perfume and - tonight - beer and weed. Harry kind of wants to know what he tastes like right now too but Louis’ talking so he figures that would be slightly inappropriate. 

It’s bothering him that he can’t seem to understand what anyone’s saying, either; they’re all speaking loud and fast, accents thick, a flurry of words and sentences. It makes him feel slightly disoriented and he closes his eyes, lashes sweeping against his skin as he does so. 

The darkness cools his heated mind and he relaxes into Louis’ touch, letting one of his hands play with the hem of his dress absent-mindedly. He’d been a bit nervous to wear it out, scared that paps might show up and snap pictures but Louis had reassured him they wouldn’t, telling him again how it was a private party. Perks of the super rich, Harry supposes now. 

He feels himself lean into the darkness beneath his eyelids, breathing deeply and almost falling into a light doze when Louis shifts suddenly, prompting him to open his eyes and frown blearily, discontent colouring his features. 

He’s just accepting the joint that’s being passed around though, leaning back and resuming his position when he has it in his hands. 

“Sorry, you alright, babe?” he murmurs, seeing Harry’s small frown and running one hand through his hair again, fingertips lightly scratching at his scalp. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Harry smiles, frown disappearing, basking in the most attention he’s received since he came over. Louis nods, humming in response, as he turns away and takes a hit, inhaling the smoke and holding it in his mouth for a few seconds before exhaling. 

Harry watches, holding his breath for some reason, stupidly entranced. The smoke is thick and white as it spirals out from Louis’ mouth and he can’t help the tiny whine that escapes him. Damn Louis and his sharp jawline. 

His boyfriend looks over at him, smirking when he sees Harry’s expression before holding the joint out. “You want a go, love? ‘S a safe one, I promise.” 

Harry already knows it must be if Louis’ offering it to him but he appreciates him telling him all the same. He shakes his head anyway, though. He can’t be bothered right now, he feels sleepy and quiet, happy to just sit and be. 

“You sure?” Louis asks, the blue of his eyes so impossibly clear, like they have grains of pure light inside them. “Could shotgun if you want.” 

And well. Harry does quite enjoy that. He nods, dimples carving indents into his cheeks as he smiles. “Yeah, okay, please. Just a bit, though, don’t wanna....um, don’t wanna get high.” 

Louis nods in understanding, the arm that was around his shoulder moving so that it circles his waist instead, pulling him closer. “C’mere, then, darlin’-” 

“Wait,” Harry pulls back slightly, cheeks colouring. “Isn’t everyone gonna see, Lou, maybe we should go somewhere else.” 

Louis laughs quietly, looking around the room pointedly. The group has moved onto another conversation around them and Harry can spot at least three couples making out a little too enthusiastically for his liking in various places. Maybe they’ll be alright, then. 

“Right, you want me to take the hit?” Louis asks, always checking, and Harry nods, watching in fascination as he places the joint to his lips, inhaling and holding the smoke in his mouth before motioning for Harry. 

The smoke is hot inside the caves of their mouths, lips sliding against each other. Louis tastes like cigarettes and beer and Harry. After a few seconds, he pulls away, leaving Harry pink cheeked and red lipped, holding the smoke carefully in his mouth.

Louis exhales and Harry tracks the misty vapor with his eyes. 

“It’ll only work if you breath it out, baby,” he huffs out a laugh, pulling him further into his arms. Harry lets the smoke unfurl out of his mouth obediently, coughing slightly as it makes it’s way into the air. 

“You alright, babe?” Louis asks, grinning when Harry rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he tucks his head back into Louis’ shoulder. “Have you been here this whole time?” 

Louis’ voice is slow, slightly raspy, when he answers, “Nah, went down to, uh...t’kitchen, I think it was, played some pool with the lads before coming in here. You know how it is, want a bit of peace ‘nd quiet after a while.” 

“Mmhmm,” Harry hums, biting back a smile as Louis’ hand dips down over his ankle to hold one of his bare feet. 

“When’d you lose your shoes, babe?” he asks and Harry doesn’t have to look up at him to know that he’s smiling. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, wiggling his toes, the nails painted a light minty green, happily. “Didn’t only lose my shoes, though.” 

“Yeah? What else is missing, then? Swear to god, if I have to buy you another one of them bloody purses.” 

Harry laughs quietly, kissing the skin under Louis’ ear. “ ‘S not that, don’t worry. And you love buying me stuff, you give me gifts all the time.” 

“That’s true...like seeing you all dressed up in ‘em, too.” 

Harry can’t help the smile that breaks out from how  _ fond  _ Louis sounds, voice crystallized with an enamored tinge. It makes his heart squeeze. 

“Love wearing them. Anyway,” Harry remembers what they were saying, “ ‘s not that. Wait, feel.” 

He shifts his hips up slightly, so that the hand that was on his waist slips down to his arse and Louis laughs loudly, chest vibrating slightly. 

“Was this all just to get me to touch your arse, babe?” He drops a kiss to Harry’s forehead, chuckling. “Could’ve just asked me, got a lovely bum, you ‘ave. ‘M quite fond of holding it.” 

“Shut up, you twat,” Harry smiles, grabbing Louis’ hand and maneuvering it so it’s stroking over his waistline. “You see?” 

Louis gives him a weird look from where Harry’s looking up at him, eyes bright, mirth hidden beneath the irises as he waits for his boyfriend to realise. 

“Okay, I’m not sure what I’m meant to be feeling now, babe.” 

“It’s what you’re  _ not  _ feeling, Lou.” 

“How strong was that weed  _ oh- _ ” 

Harry smiles, giggling helplessly as Louis’ eyes widen. 

“Fuck, Haz, are you- have you got anything on under that?” 

Shaking his head, Harry watches, trying to contain his laughter, as Louis swallows, eyes darting around the room before he scoops Harry’s legs onto his lap, the hand that isn’t holding them there by wrapping around his knee, smoothing down the dress. 

“Jesus,” his eyes flicker back down to Harry and he smiles innocently - although they both know he’s anything but - dimples deep. “You do realise that literally anyone could see your cock right now?” 

Harry tilts his head to one side, biting his lip and revelling in the way Louis’ eyes drop down to his mouth when he does so. “I know they won’t.” 

“And how could you possibly know that?” 

“Because you won’t let them,” he says simply, smile deepening as Louis shakes his head, amusement mingled with disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you,” he mumbles, making Harry laugh, “you’re fucking prancing around naked under this skimpy little thing,  _ jesus, _ you’ll be the death of me, babe, ‘m telling you now.” 

Harry buries his head in Louis’ neck, wiggling his hips so that the lacey material slips dangerously down over his soft thighs, exposing his tiger tattoo and making Louis swear, hand quickly moving to pull the hem down to a more respectable level. 

“We’re moving, c’mon, let’s go to the kitchen, don’t like having you so open like this.” 

Harry complies, smirking to himself because Louis’ always been such a possessive bastard and he loves using that to his advantage. His boyfriend’s hands are warm and firm on his waist as Harry leads them through the rooms, holding the material in place even though there’s logically no way someone’s going to see under it - not with the dark lighting and the crowds of people. 

The kitchen is slightly busier and Harry spots a pool table at the far corner where people are laughing and drinking and playing. 

Louis moves away to grab a glass, filling it with water, and Harry hops up onto the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles and swinging them back and forth. 

“Fuckin’-” Louis cuts himself off as he glares at him, hurriedly placing the glass down and squeezing in between Harry’s legs, effectively lowering the - admittedly quite small - chance that Harry’s flashing the entire room to a zero. “Sometimes I think you do this to me on purpose.” 

“I do, babe,” Harry runs his hands through Louis’ hair, looping them around the back of his neck and tightening his legs around his waist. “What? ‘S kinda hot when you get all...like this.” 

“Like what?” 

Harry shivers slightly as Louis sneaks one hand up the outside of his thigh, rubbing over the meaty part of it gently. “All jealous. Possessive. Mmm... protecti-” 

“Alright, lemme stop you there,” Louis scoffs and Harry smiles, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I’m not  _ jealous _ , babe, I’m just worried for your dignity. ‘M saving it for you, actually.” 

“Oh, is that it?” 

“Yeah, always taking care of you, I am.” 

He says it off-handedly, a small smile on his face, but it makes Harry’s chest ache with how true it is. He pulls Louis in closer with his legs, pressing into his touch as his hand climbs higher up his thigh, grazing the soft, sensitive skin there. 

“Well, why don’t we find a room upstairs and you can  _ take care  _ of me there?” 

He’s pressing little kisses along Louis’ jaw as he speaks, nibbling gently at the skin there and he can feel it when Louis swallows, the hand that’s not on his leg rubbing over his lower back in such a way that Harry doubts he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Yeah, yeah...fuck, c’mon then,” Louis pulls away, carefully grabbing Harry’s hips and helping him off the counter so that the room doesn’t get an eyeful. “One of these days you’re gonna be walking around pantless and someone’s gonna see, you know.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, smoothing his dress neatly over his thighs and admiring the white lace against his summer tan before looking back over at Louis. 

“And one of these days you will realise I’m pantless before I have to tell you and you’ll hide me away to make sure nobody sees.” 

“What d’you mean ‘one of these days’, that’s what I do every time you’re not wearing underwear.” 

There’s too much truth in that to respond to so Harry just looks up at him through his lashes, tracing his thigh tattoo over the lace as he speaks. 

“If you hurry up and find us a room, I’ll let you fuck me bare.” 

Instead of running away to find them a space upstairs like Harry had hoped, but not expected, Louis just snorts, crowding him against the counter and bracketing his hips with his hands. 

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you? We both know you’ll be begging for it, baby.” 

Harry swallows at how close they are but stands his ground, titling his chin and raising an eyebrow in an effort to keep the upper hand he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even have. With Louis, he never really knows. Sometimes it’ll feel like it but then his boyfriend will say one word, do one thing, and Harry will be putty in his hands again. 

“Don’t beg to get fucked bare. Only beg to get fucked.” 

He barely knows what he’s saying and he isn’t sure the sentence entirely makes sense but he knows Louis will understand and that’s the important thing, he thinks. 

“Mmm, exactly,” Louis hums, lips ghosting over his jaw so that Harry shivers, “that’s just it, innit? Always wanting to be bent over and taken, all full of cock, full of come, in’t that right?” 

Harry shakes his head slightly, a little dazed at Louis’ words and lips and hands.

“Only your cock, Lou, only want yours.” 

He pulls away, looking at Harry fondly and thumbing over his cheekbone. He leans into his hand and Louis cradles him gently. 

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs, making Harry’s heart clench and  _ something  _ charge down his spine like electricity, fast and hot. “C’mon, let’s get you upstairs, want to fuck you before we leave.” 

It’s not very romantic but it still has Harry biting his lip to keep a smile at bay as he follows Louis, hand interlaced with his as they weave through the people.

He feels slightly guilty as he smiles politely at the other guests, knowing he probably should have made more of an effort to converse with them; he is Harry  _ Styles  _ after all and he does have a reputation to uphold but he was too nervous when they first arrived (he’s in a bloody dress for the first time for a lot of them) and then he was drunk, so. 

He squeezes Louis’ hand to let him know that he’s getting impatient as they wind through more rooms, apparently unable to find the stairs. It's always been like this, Harry thinks suddenly, even when they had just made it into the world of fame, only just considered A-list celebrities. 

Every time they had attended a party together, no matter how long they stayed away from each other, by the end they were usually tangled up in the other’s arms again, whether drunk or sober, trusting the other to take care of them. It makes Harry feel a certain way, now, something warm and light buzzing in his chest at the thought. 

“Changed me mind,” Louis turns around abruptly, facing him. “I wanna shag at home, let’s get the car.” 

Harry pouts but lets himself be dragged towards the front door anyway, waving at a few people he knows well enough to do so. They end up getting sidetracked by Niall at the front door and chat until Louis squeezes Harry’s bum pointedly, plastered over his back and nibbling on his ear gently, and yep, okay, they’re leaving. 

“What’s got you in such a rush?” Harry asks, laughter lining his words. “We’ve gone longer without fucking before.” 

Louis shrugs, opening the front door before frowning and glancing back at Harry. “You didn’t have a coat, did you?” 

He can’t actually remember but he shakes his head anyway, shivering slightly when Louis nods and they both step out into the night. Despite it being the early days of August, it’s still England and two in the morning, so the air is fresh and cold, nipping at the exposed skin of his legs, hands and still bare feet. 

“Jesus, babe, forgot you had no shoes,” Louis wraps his arms around him, moving them up and down Harry’s torso, sparking a weak flurry of heat. “Will you be able to manage? The car’s not far.” 

Harry nods, burying back into Louis’ warmth, tripping over his feet as they start down the drive, squinting for their car amongst all the others. The gravel is rough and painful against the soft underpads of his feet and he makes a mental note to get Louis to give him a foot rub. Later though because Harry does really want to have sex. 

They find the car after a few minutes, where it’s parked down by the opening gate and Harry stands there, his dress white against the dark night, shivering slightly, the hem ruffling up now and again from the breeze. Louis unlocks the car with a chirping noise and Harry opens the passenger seat door, sliding into the warmth with a grateful sigh. 

“You sure you’re not too drunk to drive?” he asks Louis once they’re both settled in, seat belts buckled. He tilts his head against the cool glass of the window, running one peach coloured fingernail across it. 

“Well,” Louis twists round and places one hand on the back of Harry’s seat as he checks out the back, carefully reversing before pulling out of the parking spot. “If I am, ‘s a bit too late now.” 

Harry gives him a leveled look, unimpressed, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“ ‘M kidding. Relax, love...here, put your feet up.” He taps the dashboard and Harry snorts but complies, biting the knuckle of a crooked finger as he bends his legs and places his feet on the panel, wiggling his toes happily. 

“D’you like my nails? Painted them myself,” he smiles, pleased as he admires the neat, shiny polish. 

Louis glances at them, his own smile unfurling on his lips as they drive down a more open road, car gliding smoothly amongst the streetlights.

“Course. You know I do. Bought you half of the bloody colours that you have.” 

Harry hums in acknowledgement, tearing his eyes away from his feet to watch his boyfriend instead, looking at the way he’s gripping the steering wheel, the strong line of his jaw, covered in stubble, his eyebrows arched in a slight frown as he concentrates on driving. He looks like a God. Harry feels like an angel. 

“Yep, you’re like my, uh... what’s that thing called? Like a father?” 

“Fuckin’ hell, please don’t compare me to your dad, H. That’s just...wrong, that is.” 

“No, no, not an actual father...you know it.” 

“Hmm...a priest?” 

“God, no. Like a rich person who buys their partner stuff, c’mon, you must know, I forgot the name.” 

“I’m not sure, love...oh, a sugar daddy? Is that what you mean?” 

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Harry grins, catching his bottom lip between two fingers. “You’re like my sugar daddy, always buying me stuff.” 

“Really?” Louis wrinkles his nose, leaning forward and turning left down another road. “ ‘ve never really seen meself as a sugar daddy kind of guy. Gotta be a bit of a silver fox for that, innit?” 

Harry hums, considering. He supposes Louis’ right but then again, his boyfriend’s always been a bit  _ daddy.  _ At least to him anyway, especially when he’s not shaved for a while or he’s smoking or he’s in a suit or all three at  _ once,  _ christ. 

“I dunno,” he muses, looking absently out the window as the night flicks by. “I can see you as a silver fox though.” 

He glances over at Louis, a pleased giggle slipping out of his mouth when he sees that he’s smiling amusedly. 

“You’ve got that,” he waves his hands in the air, demonstrating, “daddy vibe. I can see you at, I dunno, forty, all suited up and heading meetings and firing people after they don’t make your tea right.” 

He’d been hoping to make him laugh at that and Louis doesn’t disappoint; chuckling as he turns into their own driveway. Their London house is big and as extravagant as can be expected from two international millionaire celebrities. 

“Is that right, babe?” Louis switches off the engine and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry waits in his seat, knowing his boyfriend will walk round and open his door for him. 

He does and Harry hops out, wincing as the ground drags on his bare feet. It’s a short walk up to the house, though, so he braves it, waving off Louis’ offers to ‘just carry you up there, love, you’re hobbling like an old woman.’ 

Harry doesn’t actually mind being called an old woman, although Louis clearly hadn’t intended it that way. He rather likes the idea of growing old - granted, he’d prefer not to change into a female - with Louis, always has, even when he was just seventeen and not even an adult. 

There just seems to him to be something rather comforting at the thought of when his fame dies out a bit and he’ll be able to relax a little more, for the first time since he was sixteen. That last thought makes a heavy weight, something akin to lead, fill his stomach and he shakes it off, clinging to Louis as he opens their front door. 

They’ve barely closed it behind them when Clifford comes bounding over to them, ever the excited dog, a black and white blur as he scampers up the hall, barking loudly. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Louis bends down to scratch at his head, stroking him roughly. Harry can hear the fondness in his voice. “We were only gone a few hours, mate, calm down.” 

He straightens up and Harry pets Clifford himself, wandering through and switching all the lights on. He’s done this almost every night after he’s come home from a party or an event or tour, all these years until it’s become second nature, just checking all the security and the rooms. 

Of course, he knows that if someone  _ was _ inside - or had been - they would have gotten a notification from the security company and Clifford would have been barking his head off instead of just greeting them, but he still can’t feel completely at ease unless he himself has checked. 

“Everything alright?” Louis asks, looking up at him when he’s done a quick tour of the house and is back downstairs in the kitchen. 

Harry nods, a small feeling of comfort seeping through his bones at the fact that his boyfriend just  _ knows.  _ Granted, it would probably be weird if he didn’t, seeing as they’ve been together on and off for the best part of ten years but it still makes his heart lighten a little. 

“Yeah, ‘s all good,” Harry smiles at him and Louis nods, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. He’d probably only meant for it to be a quick one but Harry deepens it, cupping his jaw and sliding his tongue inside, sighing happily when he feels Louis’ warm hands on his hips. 

“Coming upstairs?” Louis pulls away to ask, pressing gentle kisses to his temple, his nose, his forehead. 

Harry nods, letting him lead him up there until they reach their bedroom where they simply lie on the bed for a while, making out without any real heat. 

“You look really pretty tonight,” Louis murmurs, hand reaching down behind him to pull at the hem of his dress. “In this, especially. Couldn’t keep me eyes off you.” 

Harry chuckles quietly at that, a warm feeling spreading in his chest nonetheless.

“Sure know how to charm a girl, Tomlinson.” 

Louis noses against his neck, pressing the words into the skin there. “Hmm...better do, had enough practice with you, haven’t I?” 

Harry rolls his eyes a bit at that, pressing into his hand where it’s climbing up the back of his thighs, just below the swell of his arse. 

He thinks, in some ways, he could just stay here forever, just with Louis and their bed, sheets soft and crisp, and the dim lighting casting shadows over the crevices of the room. It feels like home, just in this space of time, and he honestly can’t think of anywhere else he should be, anyone else he should be with. 

“What are you thinking?” Louis asks, looking up at him with clear eyes. Harry stares into the blue of them. It looks so deep that he suddenly feels as though he could fall right into them, into the hot cerulean-beryl rings. 

“Just…” he trails off and maybe Louis already knows, on some level, because he moves up the bed, kissing Harry long and deep. He melts into it, melts into Louis, until all he can feel is his mouth on his own and his hands on his body. 

It makes Harry’s chest ache in the best way possible. Sometimes kissing Louis is like when he dips a match into the flame of one of his many scented candles; it sparks and flares, white light tinted blue and orange bursting from it, tiny flecks of fire fizzing into the air, energy and beams of love lighting up even the darkest of corners, making him dizzy with want and need and desire. 

The feelings just seem to pour out of his fingertips, charging through his veins and setting the blood alight with burning happiness and lust. 

He wonders distantly if every love is like this, for every (happy) couple, or if somehow they’re particularly special. The romantic side of him likes to think that they are. The realistic side of him tells him to stop being so self-centred and sappy. 

Louis gently rolls them over, so that Harry’s flat on his back and he’s leaning over him, nudging his legs so that they fall apart and he can slide in between, his rightful place, making Harry clutch at his biceps. 

“You still want it bare?” 

His voice is low, just on the right side of raspy, and Harry shivers as his lips trace wetly down his neck, scraping across the sensitive skin there. 

“I’ll let you have it bare, yeah,” Harry bucks his hips up against Louis, cock filling up under the delicate lace of his dress. 

Louis huffs out a laugh, pulling away to gaze down at him, eyes enamored by whatever Harry looks like right now. 

“That’s what I meant, sorry,” he’s smiling as he says it, amusement lilting his tone. 

Harry doesn't reply, just leans up to kiss him again, moaning slightly when Louis grinds down against him, stirring a delicious friction against his cock and making a zip of heat flash down his spine and bury itself at the base. 

“C’mon then, waited a long time for this. Better make sure it’s worth it,” he raises his eyebrows at his boyfriend, watching as he snorts out a laugh and leans over him to grab a bottle of lube from the drawer in the bedside table. 

“When has it been anything but worth it?” Louis shoots back, smirking as he resumes his position over him.

Harry hums, pretending to think about it as he loops his arms around his neck. Of course, it’s always been worth it,  _ Louis’ _ always been worth it, but he’s playing along with Harry so he continues. 

“Eh. A couple of times...uh, before my concert in Nashville when you flew over, remember?” Harry wiggles underneath him, biting his lip to contain a smile when Louis laughs, shaking his head. 

“Your dick that came three times begs to differ, sweetheart.” 

Harry is about to respond, with what he doesn’t know but then Louis suddenly, discarding the lube lying next to them on the bed, shifts Harry’s legs over his shoulders, hand stroking one of his calves and says nonchalantly, “ ‘M gonna eat you out for a bit, alright, lovely?” 

And every sane thought kinda gets eradicated from his mind at that. 

“Y-yeah,” he breathes, nodding jerkily, “yeah, c’mon then.” 

Getting eaten out might just be one of Harry’s favourite things in the world. It’s up there, quite inappropriately, with performing on stage and flares and Louis and his family. 

His boyfriend smiles at him, leaning down to spread his legs a little further, one of his hands coming up to gently move the dress down to Harry’s hips, leaving him completely on display, cock curving up hard and swollen. 

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t have anything on, babe.” 

Harry huffs, feeling desperation flood through his veins as Louis takes his sweet time, giving his cock a few strokes to leave him even more frantic before carefully spreading his cheeks. 

“God, come  _ on,  _ Lou,” Harry whines, reaching one hand in between his legs to lace his fingers through Louis’ hair, his rings cool against his burning skin. 

Louis huffs out a breath directly onto his hole, making it flutter and clench hopelessly around nothing. 

“Impatient,” he murmurs, lips so close that Harry can  _ feel  _ them sound out the word. 

He whines again, throwing his head back against their pillows, trying to regain some sort of control. His breathing is already ragged, cock already painfully hard and now he just needs some sort of release. 

Louis doesn’t do anything for a few seconds and Harry peeks his head up to question it when he ducks down, flattening his tongue and licking one fat stripe over his hole. 

Satisfaction and relief bubbles up in him and he moans, loudly, the hand in Louis’ hair clenching as he licks over his rim, again and again, circling the tight puckered skin with his hot tongue. 

Harry’s thighs are shaking already and he clenches them around Louis’ head where it’s buried between them, furiously going over his rim with his flattened tongue again and again as dopamine rushes through Harry’s blood, making heat pool in his veins. 

“Fuck, Louis, yeah, please, c’mon, inside,” Harry whimpers out the words, the feeling of his tongue good but just not  _ enough.  _

Louis scrapes his teeth gently along his rim, making Harry’s cock twitch on his stomach, before finally,  _ finally,  _ pointing his tongue and wiggling it around the tight ring of muscle, edging it inside. 

Harry moans louder at that, turning his head to the side and pressing his mouth against his forearm, trying to suppress his noises. Louis pinches his inner thigh with two fingers and Harry nods, even though he can’t see him, letting his arm fall away because he knows his boyfriend likes to hear him. 

“God, yes, yeah, so good,  _ fuck _ ,” Harry’s voice climbs an octave suddenly as Louis starts properly eating him out, fucking him with his tongue again and again, flattening it against his rim before lengthening it and diving back in. 

He’s pulling moans and whimpers and whines out of him like a magician pulling a bunny out of a hat and it strikes Harry suddenly how goddamn  _ easy  _ he is for Louis. Maybe he should mind. He can’t find it in himself to care, though. 

Honestly, Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he came from Louis’ tongue alone; it’s happened before probably hundreds of times. Maybe. He’s not too sure, his minds blurring together and he squeezes his eyes closed, mouth dropping open in pleasure as he fucks himself down onto Louis’ tongue. 

He barely hears the lube bottle snicking open, or Louis drizzling it over his fingers, but he must have done so because suddenly a slick finger is pressing against his entrance, running around the sensitive rim before pushing inside. 

“Oh, fuck, Louis,  _ yes,  _ that’s it,” Harry cuts himself off with a moan, feeling his finger, thick and long, brush against his prostate, making white sparks burst beneath his eyelids. 

He must make a noise, or move a certain way, because Louis keeps that angle, licking him out as his finger curls over the bundle of sensitive nerves, again and again until Harry can barely  _ think.  _

It’s only when Louis adds a second lubed-up finger that Harry thinks ‘yeah, ok I’m gonna come from this.’ He sobs brokenly, clenching his trembling thighs tighter around Louis as he scissors his fingers, spreading him open and licking around them, holding pressure against his prostate. 

He switches between actually opening him up and simply fingering him; fingers stroking mercilessly over his prostate as his tongue gets Harry steadily wetter. 

He can remember the first time Louis ate him out; back when he was just sixteen and they were fooling around with each other. He can remember that exhilarating feeling, bordering on almost delirious humour because Louis had his  _ tongue  _ inside him. 

He remembers how wet he’d felt, during and after, how his virginal teenage self and thought, right on the precipice of his orgasm, if this was what it was like for a girl, if, just for that moment, he  _ was _ a girl. 

And, like- Harry doesn’t want to be a woman, doesn’t now, didn’t then. He likes nail polish, the occasional dress or item of women’s underwear, sometimes even a small bit of makeup. But those are just- they’re just  _ things _ , things that society has deemed more feminine and yet he likes. 

In short, he’s just Harry and maybe he himself isn’t exactly sure what that entails but he doesn’t mind, not when Louis seems to understand and not only accepts but also supports him.

“God, Louis, I can’t- I can’t, need to come, fuck, not gonna last,” Harry pleads, one last long moan tumbling out of his mouth as his boyfriend strokes over his prostate forcefully before removing his tongue and fingers, making Harry whine at the loss. 

“Yeah?” Louis hovers over him and Harry may be the taller one in height but, like this, with his boyfriend seemingly towering over him, he’s never felt smaller, a  _ tiny  _ baby. “That right, darlin’? Just from me tongue and fingers? Haven’t even got me cock in you yet, love.” 

Harry whimpers at his words, overwrought, tears spilling from his eyes. “Fuck, Lou, kiss me, please.” 

He complies, softening, leaning down and kissing him, deeply and gently, cupping his jaw. 

It grounds Harry completely, after being brought right to the edge and almost falling over, he finds himself being reeled back, back into Louis’ arms. 

Sliding his tongue against Louis’ hotly, Harry whines when he circles one hand around his cock, jerking him off at a tantalisingly slow pace, thumb swiping over the head to gather precome. 

“Suck,” Louis tells him, moving the hand off his dick and raising his fingers to Harry’s mouth, teasing them between his plush lips. 

Harry does so obediently, tasting himself on Louis’ fingers and moaning, eyes fluttering close, because it’s  _ filthy,  _ it is, and yet he can’t think of anything hotter. 

“That’s it,” Louis murmurs, watching him. “God, you’re beautiful, baby, take whatever I give you so well.” 

Harry swirls his tongue around the tip of his thumb, feeling heat lick up his spine at the praise. He bobs his head up and down a bit, making Louis stifle a groan and feeling a bundle of pride flare up in him at the noise. 

Louis gently slides his finger out his mouth, moving away. 

“Was serious about what I said earlier, you know. Look stunning, you.” 

His voice is so gentle, affectionate, and it makes Harry blush slightly, letting out a dopey giggle before biting his lip and running one hand over the lace of his dress. Louis watches him fondly. 

“D’you like my dress?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, leaning back on his knees and unzipping his jeans. “Almost came when you walked out in it.” 

Harry laughs at that, loud and brazen, eyes bright as he watches his boyfriend smirk. 

“You didn’t,” he says, voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. 

Louis chuckles, discarding his jeans so that he’s shirtless in his tom ford boxer-briefs and Harry lets the conversation dip out of his concentration in favor of running his eyes over him. 

“Well, nah, not really, would be a bit fuckin’ weird if I did.” 

Harry’s eyes snap back up to his face and he laughs, sitting up slightly and toying with the hem of his dress. 

“If you fuck me well enough, I might let you come  _ on  _ it.” 

Louis huffs out a laugh, leaning forward and carding through Harry’s hair with one hand. “Baby. We both know you would never let me do that in a million years.” 

He pouts, tilting his head into Louis’ hand and watching as his eyes grow soft. They both know he’s right, though, and Harry decides to leave it at that, pressing a kiss to his lips before flipping over, narrowly avoiding kicking Louis in the face with his foot. 

“Want it on my stomach, please,” he tells him, wiggling happily on the bed and smiling when he hears Louis murmur ‘so polite, darlin’.’ 

“Want it with your dress on?” he asks him, checking, and Harry shivers slightly because it makes heat pool in his veins when he can hear Louis’ rough edged voice, feel him stroking the back of his thigh, but can’t see him. 

Of course, he could just look behind his shoulder and he’d see him there but that’s not really the point. 

“Yes,” he speaks the words against the corner of Louis’ pillow and they come out muffled so he nods his head too. “Wanna get fucked in my pretty dress, Lou.” 

He hears Louis groan quietly at that and hides a smile in the soft bedsheets, twisting his hips in anticipation when he hears the lube bottle snick open and Louis slicking himself up. 

He pouts, just a bit, because he quite likes doing that himself but then his boyfriend nudges his way in between his legs, placing one hand on the small of his back while the other circles his hips, pulling them up off the bed slightly and Harry forgets everything else except Louis. 

“You good?” he asks and Harry nods, pressing his arse back into Louis’ crotch, swiveling his hips slightly to try and push him in himself. He feels thick and long and hard against him and Harry whines slightly, frantic to feel that inside him. 

“Alright, baby, I got you,” Louis murmurs, plastering himself to his back and kissing down his neck. Harry swallows, breathing heavily as he feels him spread his cheeks before finally slipping inside. 

He holds his breath, eyes clenched shut, mouth dropping open on a silent moan as Louis’ girth stretches him, keeps his rim burning. He’s completely pliant in Louis’ arms, the immense feeling of something,  _ someone,  _ sliding into him encompassing him, snatching at all of his senses. 

Louis waits until he’s fully sheathed, until they’re pressed completely together, before running his hands through Harry’s hair, kissing his shoulder affectionately. 

“Take me so well, darlin’, always so good for me, look so beautiful like this.” 

Whispered words of encouragement pressed into searing skin. Harry nods, the praise helping as it always does as he tries to get his breathing back under control. 

“Y-yeah, fuck, Lou, move, please,” Harry shakily exhales, a sigh getting punched out of him when Louis moves, slowly at first, shifting his hips forward and back, gently getting Harry used to the feeling. 

Then he starts fucking him properly; hard, swift thrusts that have Harry trembling, euphoria flooding through him in waves until Louis changes his angle slightly and he cries out, moaning when Louis chases that same spot. 

He fucks him deeper, draping himself over his back and wrapping both arms around him. Harry clutches at his hand where it’s plastered to his chest, peeling it away and interlacing their fingers, whimpering when his cock pounds right against his prostate, again and again. 

“God,  _ Louis,”  _ his voice is edging on a wail and he arches his back slightly, pressing further into his touch, always craving more even when it feels like every bone in his body is alight with lust. 

“I know, baby, I know, christ, look at you,” Louis sounds almost in awe and Harry feels him trail one hand down to the swell of his bum, squeezing lightly. “Look so beautiful, darlin’, you were made to take cock, I swear.” 

Harry keens at that, a high noise pulling itself from the back of his throat, and he swivels his hips back into Louis’ hands, clenching tightly around him. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis groans out, before Harry feels the heat from him holding him so tightly disappear. He whines, looking over his shoulder to see Louis holding his hips instead. 

“C’mon, want you on your hands and knees, sweetheart.” 

Harry nods, shakily maneuvering himself into the position. It’s not his favourite, but it always feels good with sharp, direct thrusts right against his prostate. 

“That’s it, that’s it, darlin’,” Louis coaxes from behind him, gripping his hips tightly before slamming back in, making Harry moan loudly, the deep timbre of it rolling in his ears. 

He nails his prostate again and again, even thrusting in and holding pressure there to make Harry collapse onto his forearms, back arched in a way that must look obscene.

Blood’s roaring in his ears and he clenches his eyes shut, feeling himself tip dangerously close to what is promising to be a blissful orgasm. He feels Louis slide one hand down the plane of his back, grabbing his hair roughly and tilting his head up. 

The slight pain makes him moan again, louder when Louis fucks him faster, coarse thrusts that have tears of pleasure brimming in Harry’s eyes. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” Louis’ voice is blurring on a growl, raspy and low, and it makes his cock blurt precome where it’s curved against his abdomen, “you look wrecked, baby, your dress, christ…” 

His voice trails off and Harry lets out a sob mingled with a moan, pushing further back to meet his thrusts half way, little gasps getting punched out of him as Louis pounds against his prostate, hips snapping against him. 

He clenches tightly around him, making Louis swear and redouble his efforts, hammering into him at a pace that makes Harry’s vision blur. His head is pounding and he can feel himself hurtling towards his orgasm, faster than he wants to yet he can’t seem to hold himself back. 

“Louis, Louis, fuck, gonna come, can’t-” Harry whimpers, arms shaking where he’s holding himself up, cock throbbing with the need to come, thighs trembling slightly from where they’re supporting him. 

“Yeah,” Louis groans, reaching one hand below his hips and wrapping it around his cock, jerking him off to match his thrusts, making Harry’ breath stutter. “Come on, baby, come for me, always look so lovely when you come, so pretty.” 

“Oh, god,  _ Louis, _ ” Harry whimpers out, turning his head to the side, the soft pillows grazing his cheek. “Fuck, yeah, yeah, yes, so close, there, there…” 

He’s running his mouth, moaning out the first word that comes into his head and falls between his lips. Some kind of  _ feeling _ is crashing over him and he’s so close, so tantalisingly close, lips parted with harsh breaths escaping him. 

“Look so gorgeous, so beautiful like this, Haz. ‘S just for me, innit, this?” Louis’ pumping his cock faster now, fucking him deeper and Harry can hear the strain in his voice, knows he’s close too. 

_ “Yes,  _ Louis, christ, just for you, only you,” Harry sobs, voice broken, tears spilling down his cheeks from the raw intensity of it all, the sheer passion that’s encompassing them both. 

“Yeah? Love knowing that, darlin’, love knowing I’m the only one who can see you like this. All dressed up, gettin’ fucked so prettily.” 

Harry positively  _ mewls  _ at that and it’s the combination of pressure against his prostate, a skilled hand on his cock and Louis’ words that tips him over the edge, making him spill right into his hand, vision blurring as his boyfriend fucks him through it. 

Satisfaction and something else are rolling over him in waves and he doesn’t even realise that Louis’ come too until he pulls out, pressing kisses to his skin above the back neckline of the dress. 

“Darlin’,” Louis hums, gently turning him over in his arms. Harry goes pliantly, smiling when he sees his face. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, completely fucked out, running his hands through Louis’ hair. 

Louis smiles too, then, and Harry can’t look away from his eyes; blown and bright and so, so  _ blue.  _

He presses his lips against Harry’s, kissing him gently, deeply, before pulling away and just keeping their foreheads together. 

And Harry knows they should probably move and get in the shower and change into clean clothes, and they will, later, but for now they’re both content to stay in this moment a bit longer, to let time fall away around them as the night continues. 

**Author's Note:**

> my two brain cells strike again


End file.
